Ino, the Stripper
by self-piercing
Summary: You never get used to being alone in this world, leaving it up to faith to find company and love in the strangest places.
1. Chapter 1

I could still remember starting working at this place. The dim lighting, thick cigarette smell from last night. The pole was cold; I used to be the first one working. I started at noon. I had an Indian costume, I'm pale, I'm like ice. It did not fit. The males like me, cheered for me. Long, thin, blue eyed with blond hair and very flexible. I once dreamt about being a dancer. Well, I am a dancer now. My dream was to become a ballet dancer. I never once dreamt of removing my clothes for money. My childhood dream was not become a striper. How I ended up on the stage was a sob story like it is for all these girls. My father had gotten cancer. We did not have insurance. My mother could not handle it, she ran. We had to get the money from somewhere. Dad died this fall. I died with him. There is no life in my eyes. I do not even smile during my performance anymore. The audience seems to enjoy it. I did not give a fuck and I let it show.

Today's outfit was some sort of slutty version of Cinderella. The baby blue skirt hardly cover my butt. What did it matter anyway, it was going off. I was spending another Friday night degrading myself. For what? I had nothing. I had no one. I lived a lonely life, the only person I ever had was my dad. He was gone. Not even the stray cat I had adopted stayed with me. It ran away the third night never to be seen again.

I heard the announcer call my name, cherry Sakura. I had stolen the name of my childhood friend. Last I heard about her was that she had become a doctor. I was happy for her. I truly was, even if she had not agreed in my carrier choice. She had not known why I did this; she just thought I was doing this for attention that I needed to show off.

The location was bad light, painted in a dark, shady red. It was a cliché, it only lacked the stripper cages. It was too small for that. I think it was about 40 customers in the room. All of them were paying to see me take my clothes off, to see me naked. I did not feel honored by that. I did not feel dirty either. I was not ashamed of my body. I was not ashamed of what I was doing. I was ashamed of all the drunken men cheering me on, calling out rude and dirty suggestions. The bouncer did not care. We girls had to deal with it.

The girl on stage had gathered her dollar bills and taken a last topless bow before leaving the stage. She was the fresh meat. She had not dared to take off her bottoms yet. I prayed that she never would. I had heard she had started stripping to earn some money, and to make her unemployed boyfriend stop hitting her. The bruises would show and she would not be allowed to make some money for the two of them. She smiles at me, I did not smile back. I never did. After a nasty fight the girls had learned not to comment on it. I was the queen bitch around here. I had been around the longest, I was the starlet and I had nothing to lose.

The music and cheering started as soon as I showed myself. The music was slow, but not boring and low key. I made a run for it and jumped on the pole. Gripping it with my hands I swung around. I had learned to master the pole. I had gotten yelled at by the manager several times. I did too many tricks, the boys just wanted to see my boobs. They did not want to see acrobatics.

Even though this routine was new I knew it just as good as all my other. I took pride in my routines. Landing on my legs again I did a back flip and jumped on the other pole. I did not get high enough and had to jump further up. I often imagine myself dying like this. That I would lose my grip and fall head down. I was always in control, but I liked the play with the idea. I did a split and started twirling around the pole. My skirt fell down showing off my tight, white panties. Some table was cheering upon seeing my tightened butt. I did not judge them, it was not their fault that they were primitive. I spun around the pole for a while until I reached the ground. I went down in a bridge and got over to the first pole. I climbed it and go into a lotus position and arched my back so that I was only hanging on by my legs. As I took off my top I locked eyes with the dark, troubled male that used to hang around.

I did not know his name, but he showed up her quite often. He never had too much to drink, he did not get drunk, he did not scream like a wild animal, hell he had not even had a lap dance. I had never locked eyes with him yet though. It burnt, yet I got chills. It was not only because I had slowly let my top fallen off. I got goose bumps, I was pretty sure you could cut diamonds with my nipples. Yet it did not matter, I did not hear the cheers. I only heard him. I only felt him looking at me. He took a sip of his neat whiskey. His mouth moved into a sly smile.

Reality came back when I, not according to plan, hit the ground. All the noises came back, the moist atmosphere and for the first time in my life shame. I quickly rolled so that my butt was facing the audience and I started shaking it. I let my hair out of its bun to hide my face. I hair was long. It stopped right over my butt. My blond hair shined on the heavily light stage. I slipped one of my thumb under the edge of the skirt, pulling it, teasing. I was great at teasing. It was one of my specialties. I moved around, back against the pole. I moved up and down slowly while biting my index finger. I could feeling him still looking at me. He was supposed to, but his looks were not like the others.

I bit my long opera gloves and pulled off, slowly while moving my body to the music. I locked eyes with the man again. His long dark hair framed his face perfectly. His eyes were deep, but they did not tell anything. I had not the faintest idea what was on his mind, probably something dirty like it was with everyone else's. If he wanted a show, I was going to give him one. I took my newly freed hand under my skirt, bottom going up. I slapped my butt, hard. It hurt and would leave a mark. They liked that. They like that small, red hand. I gripped the pole again, started spinning around. They wanted motion. They were now watching my breasts dance. I got closed to the pole, back against it again. I slid down, ending up in another split. I lay down on my stomach. Pulled my skirt up and gave myself another spank. "YEAH! You've been a DIRTY girl!" I heard someone yell close to the stage. I smiled for the first time. I smiled because he was a simple man.

I quickly got up on my feet. Both thumbs under the hem of my skirt now, I pulled it down. I did not feel comfortable. I could see that I had to pull this act out another fifteen minutes. It would not work out. That was not going to happen. My routine, my plan had not worked out. I did not know what to do. The man kept looking at me with his endlessly dark eyes. I felt as if I would fall in if I got too close. I could not help but to look at him. I had no idea why he came here so often. I did not speak regularly with the other girls so I did not know if he also showed up to see them too. I hoped that he did not, even if that scared me.

While putting my index finger in my mouth again I put my other hand down my panties. It was illegal to masturbate on stage, but simulating it was not. So that was what the manager made me do. I did not enjoy it. Down, standing on my knees I swayed my hips back and forth. Some guys clapped and shouted, sounded like the table from earlier. I pulled my hand out and slapped my thighs before getting up. It surprised the audience and people were quiet for a fraction of a second.

I was getting tired when I once again got up on the pole. I hung upside down again, letting the crowd get a full view. I closed my eyes, I did not feel well. I wanted to be gone. The heavy lights were hot. The noises gave me a head ache. I slid down on my back and finally took off my last piece of garment. The crowd cheered, loudly. I threw my panties out in the audience. I did not see where it landed. I did some walks up and down the stage. I got down on all four to collect the dollar bills lying along the stage and got off.

I was done. I was really done this time. I could not shake the image of this man from my mind. Yes, I had seen him before, yes I had noticed him. I did not know what it was. I asked the new girl Hinata if the man had been there when she performed. He had not. I peeked in my robe to see if he still was there. He was not. I was worried. All of the girls had been sexually harassed after giving a performance, some had even been raped. I was sure I would be no exception. I got dressed in a hurry eager to get on the next bus home.

Outside I felt someone tap my shoulder. It was the man. I could feel my heart move up to my throat beating like crazy. He looked almost embarrassed. "I was not sure what to do with this?" he handed me my panties as the bus stopped. I took them without a word. I knew I would never find myself at that place again, but some part of me was dreaming of seeing him again. After working at this place for over six years he was the first to hand me my underwear back. It must be love.


	2. Overtime

Getting anyone to smile in this world was getting increasingly difficult. There was not a ray of sunshine left over in this place. My fingers had gone dry from doing paper work. I had to moist them every hour or so. This is what my life had become. I did this all for the glory of my dad who would expect so much of me. It was Friday, and it had been months since I last had been to the strip club. I had not seen her since then. Not since I had handed her panties. It was surreal. I could still feel the fabric, soft.

I wondered what she would be wearing today. She was the only thing keeping me sane nowadays. Between all the business talk, teaching my kid brother how to survive in this world and earning up to my father. He had no idea I went to strip clubs. He would not approve of it. I knew he went there often himself, to the high end ones where you just as easily could by sex as well. Father was not faithful to our mother. It had been years since they had a relationship. They were only together for the publicity.

What father would have said if I came home with Sakura on my hand I had no idea. I would never find out. She was only a sad comfort. A shallow picture of what I dreamt of. It would never happen, like I would never leave the office early. I did not have anyone at home. I had nothing but a cold house waiting for me at the estate. I knew when she came on stage, and I knew when I had to leave the office to get there in time. Dad had already packed up and left. I was afraid that the one day would find out. I was going to inherit the company, I could not have strip club goer on my résumé.

I shut off the lights and got into my Hennessey Venom GT. It had been a gift for my 21st. For doing good for committing my life to the company. I did not care for expensive and flashy goods. I loved my car though, but hated the attention it gave me. The club was not close to as packed as it used to be, on the other hand the crowd was twice as drunk as the used to be. Horror struck me when they introduced Hinata to the stage. She seemed to be high on cocaine, her cheap make up was not even close to hiding the bruises that her assumable abusive spouse had given her. I made my way to the bar demanding to speak someone in charge at this place. The manager came out. fat, disgusting looking like someone who would help himself to the girls. I asked for Sakura. He didn't seem to remember her name at first. "Ah, the flexible blond, Ino? She quit this place a while ago." His words were slow. "Too bad too, she drew a crowd. But she had too high standards. This place was not good enough for her. Last I heard she could hardly make a living." I demanded her information. He was slow at first, my $100.000 Rolex Submariner made it all easier. I left the club disappointed; I did not even bother looking at this Hinata. It was dark when I got out. I ended up driving around town. I did not know what to do with her contact information. I did not even know if he had scammed me. How would I approach her, I wouldn't want to scare her. I found myself in her area. I drove past. It was not a good neighborhood. The building was run down. People were dealing on the street corners; it did not look like a safe and happy neighborhood. I stopped a group of teens outside her building. I gave them $300 to tell me if someone named Ino lived there. They called her the ice maiden, used some crude words to describe her and what they wanted to do to her. They started talking about my ride and how sweet it was. I didn't want them touching it so I took off. She had looked so scared that last night on the stage, she looked depressed and shameful. She looked shocked when I approached her later the same night. I would not scare her by showing up. Not like this. Not tonight. I wondered what had caused her to leave her job without a word. Maybe something had happened, maybe she had gotten someone to pay her bills, maybe she too had an abusive husband or maybe she had gotten pregnant.

Now you spoilt brats. I'm making this into a several chapter story. Nevermind I've got 2049939098034 other ones going on


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